Pure Enough

By Sandy DeLisle

Having sex for the first time is a big decision for anyone, but for sixteen-year old Katherine Brinkman, the decision is even more complicated. Under the close watch of her parents, Katherine has never had a boyfriend. But that changes when she moves to a Chicago suburb for her mom’s teaching sabbatical and meets a group of free-spirited friends, including the charming and incredibly hot Aidan Koutsoukos. When Aidan isn’t serenading Katherine with love songs or making her laugh with his charismatic wit, he’s tempting her with his wavy, black locks, riveting brown eyes and perfectly sculpted body. While Katherine is falling for Aidan, her hometown of Black Earth, Iowa, is planning its first purity ball; a ceremony where girls publicly pledge to remain virgins until marriage. Once she returns home, will she honor her family and friends and pledge her virginity with her father as a witness? Or, will she give in to her desires under the influence of her new friends? As Katherine wrestles with this life-altering decision, she must decide if she is...PURE ENOUGH...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy DeLisle
• Release date: Oct 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9780980217353

Sandy DeLisle

Sandy DeLisle wrote her first book, STUFF, an autobiography, at the age of eight. Although STUFF received critical acclaim from Sandy’s parents, the one and only copy mysteriously turned up missing shortly after Sam the sheepdog moved in. A former middle school science and language arts teacher, Sandy loves writing for adolescents. In addition to PURE ENOUGH, she has authored BAD GIRL BOOT CAMP and THE TEENAGE BOY’S PLAYBOOK ON SEX AND RELATIONSHIPS: FROM ROOKIE TO M.V.P. WITH 20 SIMPLE RULES. She lives in the Chicago area with her husband, three sons and two rescued German shepherds.Sandy loves to hear from her readers! Contact her through her blog athttp://sandydelisle.wordpress.com/

Book preview

Chapter One

If I had known wearing my cowboy boots was going to cause me so much grief on my first day of classes at Deer Grove High School, I would have worn the white sneakers my mom bought me for the occasion. It’s not like I was up on fashion or anything. How could I have been, given my wardrobe limitations? But even I knew when something was really dorky, and I figured those sneakers screamed tease me.

And besides, my life in rural Iowa had been all about my boots. I’d wake up and don my mucking boots to clean out the barn before school. Then, after I showered and dressed, depending on what clothes I was wearing, I wore either my black or brown cowboy boots. After school, it was either back to my mucking boots, or, if it was an equestrian day, my riding boots. Boots were like another appendage to me: reliable, trusty, practical, and in my opinion, stylish.

I learned quickly, though, that for girls in suburban Chicago, life does not revolve around boots. Unless you count Uggs, which I don’t.

My mom won the Golden Ruler Award from the National Foundation for Advancement in Elementary School Education, which is what brought us to Chicagoland. Only two public school teachers in the entire country were chosen to receive the semester-long sabbatical at Northern University, so it was a huge accomplishment. One of her former students, now the youngest member in the U.S. House of Representatives, had nominated her.

After whittling the potential award recipients down to six national finalists, the awards committee came to Black Earth last spring and shadowed my mom for a week, interviewing her principal, parents, students and fellow teachers.

Before the committee arrived, my mom took down her In God We Trust poster, which normally was prominently displayed under the American flag in her classroom. I guess she figured the committee might have a problem with a religious sign in a public school. But in Black Earth, everyone’s Christian and proud of it, separation of church and state is beside the point.

Within a month of the committee’s visit, we learned that my mom had won the upper elementary division. Despite my mom’s concerns about leaving my father behind and us not fitting in with liberal urbanites, come August we packed our bags and headed east.

So, there I was on that first day of school, on my way to first period, head down, studying the hall map my counselor had given me, when I heard a crinkling sound beneath my feet and a distraught, Watch where you’re going!

I looked down to see that I was standing on a large white sheet of paper, a sign of some sort. I looked behind me and saw the exact path my size nine Fryes had made across the banner announcing Deer Grove’s Most Exciting First Home Football Game Ever!!!!!!! Two girls scrambled around me, tugging at the sign beneath my feet, causing the paper to rip.

You and your big boots just trashed my sign, the blonde haired beauty cried.

Sorry, I said, stepping off the tattered paper.

Who wears cowboy boots anyway? she muttered under her breath as she futilely blotted my boot prints with a piece of paper towel, spreading the red paint even more.

Before I could answer, another voice joined the conversation. "Well, obviously she does, Jess, a tall, good-looking guy with chiseled cheekbones said, moving closer to survey the damage. And, I must say, she wears them well. He’d been a blur in my peripheral vision, sitting on a nearby radiator. You new here?" he asked, his baby blues twinkling at me.

Yeah. I just moved here from Iowa.

It figures, the brunette girl tsked, as if Iowa was some toxic waste site. I had news for her; I wasn’t all that impressed with Easton. I mean, does a town really need a Starbucks on every corner? As far as I could tell, the best thing about the Chicago area was Lake Michigan.

When my mom was meeting with advisors and getting oriented that first week before my school started, I hung out at the public beach, observing the local scene from the comfort of the Hello Kitty beach towel she picked up for me at Target. She thought she was being helpful, so I didn’t have the heart to tell her sixteen-year olds don’t use Hello Kitty towels. Just like I hadn’t been able to tell her no to buying me the dorky sneakers. I made do by flipping the towel over, plain side up, and pretended to read Chicken Soup for the Horse Lover’s Soul. In actuality, I was spying on other girls my age, all of whom seemed to be having a fabulous time frolicking on the beach in their skimpy bikinis.

Where I come from, good girls don’t distract their Christian brothers by dressing provocatively. I wondered what these girls would think of my mom’s hallelujah challenge, a modesty check, consisting of lifting my arms up over my head to make sure my midriff doesn’t show. Or, the thumbnail test where, holding my arms at my sides, I check to make sure no skirts or shorts rise above the tip of my thumbnail. Life was definitely different here.

Well, personally I think Deer Grove could use a real live cowgirl, the handsome guy said, this time flashing his dimples at me. If I were into stereotypically cute guys, I would have been flattered.

I wanted to say, I’m from Iowa, not Texas! And, by the way, my family grows corn, not cattle, but I thought better of it and chose just to smile instead. City folk were so clueless about some things.

So what’s your name? he asked.

Katherine.

Nice to meet you, Katherine, he said, extending his hand as he approached. I’m Jackson Spinello.

I shook his hand. Nice to meet you, too. I turned my attention to the girls who were still fussing over their sign. I’m really sorry about your sign.

Yeah, me, too. We got here at 7:15 to make it and now we have to start all over, Jess huffed.

I can help you make a new one, I offered.

No thanks. The sign’s for a football game, not a square dance. She shot me a look that could only be described as loathing.

All this because I accidentally trashed her sign? Square dance? I said, returning her evil glare. If this girl wasn’t so ignorant, she’d be funny.

So where’s your class? Jackson asked, stepping in between me and Jess to peer at my schedule.

J-104, I said, casually trying to peak over his shoulder to see if the girls were still shooting me nasty looks. I had one to give in return if they were.

I’ve got Peterson for first period English, too, Jackson said.

Yeah? Well, I better get going, I said, giving up on the petty dispute; deciding that Jess must have just had a bad day she was projecting on the world. Anyway, I didn’t want to be late for my first class.

I’ll walk you there, Jackson said. He put his hand on my back and I let him lead me away from the girls and their mangled banner. I looked back to see both of them scowling at me.

That heated encounter was my first clue that I’d just walked into the biggest lover’s quarrel Deer Grove High School had ever seen.

The second clue came the very next day when I opened my locker and a bale of loose straw came spilling out on my white sneakers. Within a few seconds of the straw onslaught, Jess and her brunette friend popped out from around a corner.

Look at the mess the cowgirl made, the brunette girl said.

"Let this be a lesson not to take a roll in the hay with my boyfriend," Jess said.

Actually, this is straw, not hay, I said, picking up a hollow sheath. And they think hicks are stupid? Straw’s what we use for animal bedding. Which one of you has the pig sty?

Apparently Jess wasn’t used to getting talked back to, because she stood there speechless for a moment, her mouth agape, and her already pale skin getting paler by the second. Jackson’s mine. Leave him alone, she warned, her eyes squinting into thin little slits. Come on, Haley.

And with that, the two girls left me standing in the straw, wondering how it was that Jess had come to think that I was trying to steal her boyfriend.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out why I had earned the wrath of Jessica Landon, the most popular girl in school. On my third day at Deer Grove, it became crystal clear.

Hey, Daddy’s Little Girl, you left something in art class, an obnoxiously loud, yet singsongy voice called from behind me.

Jessica. Immediately, my heart paid my gut a visit and my face went flush. She’s got my ring! I left it by the sink when I washing the paint off my hands at the end of class.

My ring was about the last thing I wanted in my new enemy’s possession. I knew how nerdy it probably looked to her, but my father had given it to me as a good-bye gift on the day we packed up our Blazer and my mom and I headed to Chicago. He’d told me that since he personally wouldn’t be around to scare the guys off at my new school, the ring would serve as a warning to any potential suitors. He’d said it with a smile on his face, but I knew he was serious. Being an only child has its upsides, but my parents being overprotective is not one of them.

I turned to see Jessica dangling the gold band engraved with the inscription Daddy’s Little Girl between her fingers as she held it up high for everyone in the cafeteria to see. Two of Jessica’s friends flanked either side of her, arms crossed, smirking at me.

I put my lunch tray down on the metal counter, stepped out of line, grabbed the ring from her, and shoved it in my pocket.

Nice jeans, Jessica’s blonde bookend said. I looked down at my faded Wranglers. Where’d you get those? Farm and Fleet? she asked.

I was way out outnumbered here and I knew it. Plus, everyone with fifth period lunch was staring. Silence was my best defense, I decided.

Oh, yeah. Farm and Fleet is like Abercrombie and Fitch for hicks, Haley chimed in.

"I can’t believe Jackson is interested in her. I can’t see Daddy’s Little Girl ever putting out," Jessica’s wannabe chimed in again.

I retreated, getting back in line. Jackson’s interested in me? Like that? All he did was walk me to class. I wished I could just meld into the mass of students waiting to pay for their lunch.

The girl with the funky hair and weird clothes from my math class was right in front of me. I guessed she was one of those Gothic girls my friends back home had warned me about. Suddenly, she turned and craned her neck around me, calling out to the threesome somewhere behind us, Well, better to be a prude hick than a stuck-up slut, I always say. She stood; hand on hip, glaring at what I presumed to be my tormentors.

Great. My third day of school and I was, literally, in the middle of an argument. Again.

My curiosity got the best of me, so I shifted to get a look at Jessica.

Oh, this coming from the girl who’s so starved for attention she has to sue the school district, the ringleader barked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and sticking her nose a tad bit higher in the air.

You’re the one starved for attention, Jessica. Why don’t you try wearing a shirt that actually covers your breasts? the Gothic girl shot back.

I giggled to myself. Goth-girl was right; Jessica’s shirt wouldn’t have passed even the most generous of modesty tests.

Jessica tugged at her top, momentarily covering her cleavage. Come on, girls; let’s get away from these losers before they rub off on us. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, Jessica and her posse vanished behind the salad bar.

Honestly, I actually feel sorry for Jessica and her clones. Poor things; they don’t have one brain among the three of them, my newfound guardian smiled at me, flashing me the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. Maybe it was the contrast of her jet black hair that made her teeth so bright, though she did have one thin swatch of bright pink hair that framed the right side of her face. They’re so clueless they think all that matters is what they wear and who they’re dating. And, I have no idea why they even bother coming to lunch since they never eat.

I chuckled out loud this time. Well, thanks for scaring them off.

My name’s Charlotte, she said as she paid the cashier.

Charlotte? I said, surprised. I didn’t mean to be rude; it’s just that name didn’t really fit the girl I’d just seen in action. This girl was as feisty as Digger, my pet longhorn back on our farm.

Yeah, I know, my name’s a bit traditional for my style.

I’m Katherine, I said, offering her my hand.

She picked up her tray, ignoring my gesture. You want to eat with me? she asked, walking away.

OK, I said to her backside. Although Charlotte was unconventional and perhaps even borderline scary, there was something about her that was intriguing, too. Besides, I was grateful not to have to eat by myself again.

Quickly, I paid for my lunch and followed her to a spot by a window that overlooked the student parking lot. I was still blown away by how many kids had their own cars at this school.

So, Charlotte’s a pretty name. Are you named after someone? I asked, attempting to make conversation.

Call me Char. And, yep, I’m named after my mom’s favorite author, Charlotte Bronte, she said. How about you? Are you named after anyone?

Yes, my father’s mother, I said.

Well, my full name is Charlotte LaRue. I used to hate it, but now I love it. No one expects a girl who looks like me to have a frou-frou name like that. For me, it’s all about keeping people on their toes. Char shoved a piece of lettuce in her mouth and chewed it with gusto.

Well, I can see why it’s important to be on your toes around here. I took a swig of my water and watched Char try to stab an elusive cherry tomato.

You mean Jessica and her entourage? Don’t worry about them; they’re just jealous of you, she said, giving up on the tomato.

Jealous? Of me? I said, practically choking on my cheese pizza.

Have you looked in the mirror, Katherine? Abruptly, Char put her fork down and stared at me. OK, I’m not comfortable calling you Katherine. It’s way too formal. Can I just call you Kat?

Sure, I said. There was no way I was going to tell this girl no. And, I kind of liked being around her. She was like no one I had ever encountered in my life. Sure Jessica was the obvious stand-out at this school, but we had mean pretty girls like Jessica back home. In fact, after Ally Prescott won the Junior Pork Queen state title, she could’ve given Jessica a run for her money. But there was no one who even came close to being like Charlotte LaRue in Black Earth, Iowa.

Well, Kat, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re model material. What are you 5’ 9?"

I guess, I said.

And, you’ve got that natural beauty thing going for you. You must get comments all the time about your eyes. They’re the most beautiful green-

So what was that lawsuit about that Jessica mentioned?

You’re modest, too. That’s rare in a pretty girl. You know, if you dressed and acted like those girls, they’d probably welcome you with open arms. Charlotte put down her fork and stared at me as if she was looking for a response.

I shifted in my seat, chewing self-consciously. No, thanks.

She resumed eating. To answer your question, this year the state of Illinois mandated twenty seconds of silence at the beginning of each school day. She stopped, as if that in and of itself should have made it clear to me what the problem was.

And so… I prompted her.

I’m suing the school district.

For making you take a moment of silence?

Damn straight. This is a public institution. Who ever heard of making kids pray in public school?

We have a moment of silence at my public high school.

Where are you from?

Iowa.

Well, in Chicago we don’t make people pray in public school like they do in the Bible Belt.

Technically, we were in a suburb of Chicago and nobody made you pray during the moment of silence. But, I’d already had enough confrontation in the last few days, so I let her comment go unchallenged.

So are any other students helping you? I asked, assuming there must be a committee of heathens or something.

No, just me. Sometimes you have to fight for what you believe in even if that means standing alone.

Well, what happened when you sued them? I asked, amazed she had taken on an entire school district.

Oh my God, lawsuits take forever, Kat. I found it ironic that she invoked God when she was referring to a lawsuit that would stop people from praying to Him. It probably won’t be settled for months.

And maybe in the meantime you’ll find Jesus, I said, hoping my joke would be construed as a friendly dig, which is how I intended it. I just wasn’t sure how to read anyone around here.

Ha! I love it. You have a sense of humor, she said, clapping her hands together. Her face grew serious. So anyway, you want some advice about how to handle Jessica?

Definitely, I said. Surprisingly, only part of me wondered if I should be taking advice from a girl who was clearly a social outcast herself.

She’s worried about you taking over her territory.

I pushed my lunch tray off to the side. She doesn’t have to worry about that. I’m just putting in my time here until I go back to my school next semester.

It’s not the school she’s worried about losing; it’s Jackson. They’ve been a couple since sophomore year. You know the type, they were shoo-ins for Homecoming King and Queen this year, totally barfable, but then, over the summer, Jackson cheated on her. I’m sure she sees you, the cute new girl, as a huge threat.

The bell rang.

I stood to go. "Well, I’ve never had a boyfriend and I’m not starting now. This place is already hard enough to navigate; I don’t need a guy complicating it even